


Their Design

by dornfelder



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 3.13 coda, M/M, Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornfelder/pseuds/dornfelder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a way, Will has been tossing a coin. That was his decision, but the outcome isn't. If they make it out of this alive, then Hannibal will have won. So he swims.</p><p>And as he crawls ashore, he drags Will with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Design

**Author's Note:**

> IDEK

It is Hannibal who takes them to shore. Will is dead weight in his arms, barely conscious after the fall, weak with blood loss. Hannibal could let go of him. He considers it, briefly, but it is more of a theoretical approach. This is not the end. This is not the end for the two of them. Hannibal won't let it be. Will does not get to decide their fate like this. He has given himself to Hannibal and Hannibal is going to keep him. This is the beginning. Anything else is not an acceptable option.

He swims, treading water, staying close to the cliff. He holds Will with one arm around his chest, using the other to pull himself along. 

In a way, Will has been tossing a coin. That was his decision, but the outcome isn't. If they make it out of this alive, then Hannibal will have won. So he swims. 

And as he crawls ashore, he drags Will with him. 

The cold water has stopped the blood flow, slowed down his breathing as well. But he does breathe, shallowly, and they have not been in the water that long. There is no way they will reach the house again, but there are a couple of cottages a mile or so down the coast. Hannibal pulls Will up with difficulties, slings his arm around his shoulders and starts walking.

Lights are still on inside the first cottage they reach. An elderly couple is sitting in front of a TV screen. The house will be equipped with everything they need to treat their injuries. Hannibal doesn't like the thought of being this obvious, this amateurish. It is also very impolite to intrude like this. Unfortunately he has no other choice. 

He lays Will down on a porch in the dark, then he sets to work. Ten minutes and two broken necks later, the elderly couple no longer poses a problem. Hannibal carries Will inside to lay him down on couch. He cuts the remains of his clothes off him, then goes looking for supplies to stitch up the wounds. There are many cuts along Will's torso, most of them shallow and superficial. The one in his cheek is deep and ugly, responsible for most of the blood loss. The damage is not as great as it could have been. Messy, yes, but not life-threatening once they get their hands on antibiotics.

Hannibal wraps Will in blankets before tending to his own injuries. The bullet wound is but a graze; it doesn't take long to stitch up. Will regains consciousness just as Hannibal ties the last knot. Turning his head to the side, he moans and finally opens his eyes. They take a few seconds to focus and Hannibal watches him intently, realizes the second he becomes fully aware of his surrounding, then the split second where he actually _remembers_ \- 

Will slowly sits up and their eyes meet across the room. 

"Good evening, Will", Hannibal says softly. 

Will blinks, then looks down to stare at his stitches. "I look like a pincushion." He winces, reaches up to touch his cheek. He is still covered in blood. 

Hannibal puts thread and needle down. He gets up from his chair, crosses the room in unhurried but purposeful steps, and stops in front of Will. Will looks up to him slowly. 

"It was very rude", Hannibal says. "To throw us off a cliff without a warning."

Will huffs out a laugh. "Come on. You pushed me a long time ago. The fall was just … suspended."

"Accurate, in a way," Hannibal concedes. "You are not going to do it again, though, or are you?"

Will looks at him briefly, then he shakes his head. "No." 

"Good," Hannibal says. "Because you are mine now. You gave yourself to me."

Will winces. He swallows, but he does not bother to disagree. "Yes." 

If he were a lesser man, his heart might have missed a beat right then. He knew, _of course he knew_ , but hearing Will admit it is its own brand of intoxicating. Hannibal can admit as much. 

"And in turn, it seems only fair that I should be yours as well," Hannibal says softly. He goes to his knees in front of the couch. The gesture and its significance isn't lost on Will, whose eyes widen. Hannibal leans forward to kiss him on the forehead. Wills skin is encrusted with blood; he twitches but doesn't pull away. 

"My boy," Hannibal says. The smell of blood and salt is a heady mixture and he inhales deeply. He can smell it all, Francis' blood and Will's and his own, sweat and grime and the salt of the Atlantic sea. 

"Not a boy", Will says. "Not your creation either." 

"No," Hannibal agrees. He is not going to argue semantics; the difference betwen an artist and a craftsman. Creation or refinement? It does not matter, not in this case. Without a lapidary to bring the hidden facets to light, a gemstone will never shine as brightly. He cups Will's chin with one hand to lift it so they are eye to eye. He takes in Will's large pupils, the way he is shivering from the cold and in reaction to Hannibal's touch. "But you are mine, Will." 

He kisses Will, chastely, only a brief touch of lips on lips. Will doesn't pull back, remaining motionsless. When Hannibal withdraws to look at him, Will closes his eyes instead. He wets his lips. Hannibal watches him, enrapt. The sight awakens all kinds of desires in him, different kinds of urges: to cherish and to nurture, to punish and to possess, to hold down and _to bite_. 

In time, he will give in to all of them. 

Will opens his eyes. Hannibal holds his gaze, letting it bleed through, all of it, hunger and satisfaction, greed and tenderness, all at once. Will takes in a sharp breath. 

Hannibal smiles at him. "All in good time," he says. He leans forward to kiss Will's forehead one last time.

Will stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "I have never been sexually attracted to a man in my life."

Hannibal sits back. "Is that so?" He does not take any effor to conceal his amusement, inspiring a frown on Will's face. "Why do you believe that your past experiences of sexual attraction are relevant to what we are? I'd like to think that our relationship defies expectations – and that we are quite beyond the point where we need to establish arbitrary lines."

Will's smile is unexpected, slightly rueful, with a wry tilt to his mouth. "I wouldn't call sexual orientation an arbitrary line. However, you might have a point. I gues we will just have to wait and see." 

Hannibal tilts his head a fraction to the side. A part of him wants to push, even now, when they have little time and their first concern has to be to get away from here before the FBI shows up. Still, he would love to see how far Will would let himself be pushed, what it would take to make Will fall apart under the careful ministrations of his hands, just as fell apart under the careful manipulation of his mind. Will's eyes narrow and it is safe to assume that Will can at least partly guess the direction of his thoughts. Hannibal feels his lips curve in a smile. "As I said. All in good time."

Will snorts, but he does nothing to stop him when Hannibal leans forward again. Quite the opposite. He even lifts his chin obligingly, and who is Hannibal to decline that kind of invitation? He kisses Will on the mouth. Will's lips stay unyielding and the urge to push becomes almost irresistible for a second. 

Reluctantly, Hannibal breaks the kiss. He presses his forehead to Will's instead and they share one breath, then anoher. Will's exhalations are shaky. Hannibal has to make himself pull back. It's harder than anticipated. 

It is only just beginning, he reminds himself. This is their future. _This is their design._


End file.
